Crossfit and Stength log for Friday, April 18th

Started today's workout with 3x3 squat cleans at 80% 

I opted for 155# which is 85%. I don't like lifting under 85%.  Didn't do too bad, I really need to move my feet, I losing out on a lot of power, and likely have a much better clean in me.

The WOD was brutal
"Santiago"  7 rounds for time (w/ 15 min cap):

-18 dumbbell hang squat cleans 30#
-18 pull ups
-10 power cleans 115#
-5 handstand push ups

Got through 2 rounds and 12 dumbbell hang squat cleans.  Ugh.

After lunch I went to the Y my Caleb, I've been wanting to tackle my bench press PR for a while now.  I've been lifting 90%-95% of max for multiple reps for some time and new I could finally break 200#.

Worked up rather quickly, only had half an hour to work. Got really comfortable for 185# and 195#.  Then went for it.  It went up surprisingly easy.  

I probably couldn't done two reps.  

Caleb naturally talked me into trying 210#, figured why not?  But of course it wasn't happening. He had to bail me out.  It was nice having him there to witness it.  I was clearly please with the accomplishment and I felt his pride in me.

Progress update of revised weightlifting goals. Derived from intermediate level for my body weight (at the time the goals were set!) at www.exrx.net

New Bench Press PR.  I'll need to set some new goals.

Lift / target weight / current PR
Bench / 190lbs / 205lbs Apr 18, 2014 (up from 195lbs) !!!!!!
Dead Lift / 300lbs / 300lbs Jan 22, 2014 (up from 285lbs) !!!!!
Press / 130lbs / 130lbs Mar 7, 2014 (up from 125lbs) !!!!!!
Power Clean / 185lbs / 185lbs Dec 30, 2013 (up from 175lbs) !!!!!!
Power snatch / 140lbs / 125lbs Mar, 27, 2014 (up from 115lbs)
Back Squat / 255lbs / 265lbs Jan 14, 2014 (up from 245lbs) !!!!!

Other lift PRs:
Front Squat 215# Sept 11, 2013
Push Press: 175# (up from 165#) Feb 18, 2014
Clean: 185# (up from 180#) Dec 23, 2013
Jerk: 185# (up from 180#) Oct 30, 2013
Snatch: 130# July 22, 2013
Clean and Jerk: 175# July 24, 2013
Overhead squat: 115# April 10th, 2014

I'm a good mother.

3 days in to Kiza's second  10 day business trip this month, I've found myself wondering if this is the life of every single parent, just single fathers, or more likely if it's just me.

Then I read this blog post I spotted on Facebook: The Good Mother and I realized that it's all of us.

My voice isn't so much "a good mother would", but "mommy would"  or wouldn't as the case may be.

-mommy wouldn't have skipped bath night.
-mommy wouldn't have put Dex down without brushing his teeth.
-mommy wouldn't have sifted through the dirty laundry basket to find the least dirty uniform shirt for Delilah to wear to school on Friday (why couldn't it have been cold out, I have dozens of long sleeve shirts).

The author, Lynn Shattuck, is right, fathers don't set the bar nearly as high and society doesn't set if any higher for them.

That doesn't mean we don't feel the pressure, guilt or inadequacy when we make the call or go it alone (even temporarily).  But being a good father isn't tied to our self worth, not at the surface anyway.

I felt sad reading the blog, most of the examples she cited I could relate to, and before finishing the sentence I brushed them off. (Edit: I felt sad for the mothers who can't brush it off, for whatever reason, the way fathers can).

-forgot the monitor? Baby will cry loud enough sooner or later, no biggie.
-forgot diaper bag while out of the house? Outing gets cut short with a stinky ride home, no biggie.
-surfing the net while feeding baby? Hell ya. Try playing Wii (but be careful not to bonk your 5 day old in the forhead with the controller when you have to jump/dive to break trough the ice in the Ice Age game, really glad she had that knitted cap on)
-can't soothe a crying baby? Lets just say I'm glad we lost the fridge in the fire, I was tired of seeing the dent in the stainless steel door where I put my fist because a certain little girl wouldn't stop crying in my arms despite every trick in the book)
-didn't notice the shirt was dirty?  I chose the dirty shirt myself and put it on her. No biggie.

There was another post I read recently, I think it was a comencement speech, and it said something about, how horrible experience will one day make great stories, so when you're in the middle of one, try to imagine telling this story one day and laughing your butt off.

My kids are happy more often than not, they are a marvel to watch, learning and interacting with each other, with their peers and with me. We're doing alright.

But please mommy, come home soon!!!!  ;)

Ms. Shattuck's final remark is important I think (as it describes most of my days of late).

I’m a good mother. Say it with me, even if your kid is wearing a yogurt shirt today like mine is. Say it if you have no idea what’s for dinner. Say it after you raise your voice because your kid won’t get in her freaking car seat. Say it out loud to yourself.

I'm a good mother.

Mommy's home! Mommy's home!

There were two extremely happy little kids in my house this morning when I got back from Crossfit.

Delilah had already seen mommy, when she stumbled into our room in the middle of the night looking for me (which she never does, that was weird), and found to her absolute delight that mommy was in bed.

Thankfully Kiza was able to get her back to sleep.

Daddy is very happy too.

It was really hard to leave for work, I really wanted to just hang out with my best friend.

We did spend a bit time quality time together, jockeying for counter space in the kitchen.  It was nice.

Single Parenthood.

Sucks.

Now don't panic, Kiza is just on a business trip for 11 days (she gets back tonight) and in a Facebook status update after a particularly difficult meal I posted:

Caring for a nearly 5 year old and a 2 and a half year old is a lot of work; for two people.  It's exhausting and relentless for a single parent. 

I quite honestly don't know how people do it.

I guess you find help. I was able to solicit the help of my oldest son Caleb so I could go to the gym in the early morning hours (which really didn't help that whole exhausted thing, but I digress).

You need your friends and family, that's for sure.  But I have no family in town and being an intravert, soliciting help from friend requires more mental energy than taking care of two small children!

Thankfully we have a fairly well established schedule, so I survived the first 11 day stint fairly well.  I only resorted to the Shiraz on two occasions and didn't even touch the Bailey's. 

Kiza arrives tonight.  I miss her so much. And not just to share the parenting duties.  This is the longest we've been apart since we've known each other. I miss just looking over and seeing her there.   I miss jockeying for counter space in the kitchen in the mornings. 

She's back for a week, then gone another 10 days.  I'm going to just try and enjoy this week with her.  I'll deal with my next dose of single parenthood again when the time comes.

My father's hands

We are at the children's hospital and I'm holding Dexter, trying to get him to sleep. He's working too hard to breathe, and the epinephrine masks aren't lasting the required two hours for him to get discharged.

He's not in crisis mode but the staff her are taking it seriously enough to have admitted him over night.

As I gently rub his arm to coax his fluttering eyelids to close I notice that it isn't my hand oscillating along his tiny arm, it's my father's.

I don't know when it happened, but at some point in the last, oh I don't know, twenty years, my hands turned into my father's, fewer scars, fewer stains, marred by much less hard work, but they look the same. The same bony wrinkly knuckles, the same reddish hairs and freckles. The tip of my pinky even turns inward the same way his does. It's scary and reassuring at the same time.
I wonder if he was ever as worried about me as I am now about Dexter, or when Delilah had her MRI, or when Clarisse had her kidney infection, or Caleb first developed asthma. I put on a brave face, but so often I'm scared out if my wits, I'm left wondering if he did the same.

I'll have to ask him about it next time I see him.

Dexter is on the mend. He's sleeping soundly now. His breathing easier. My worry has subsided for now.  Another crisis averted.

Maybe that was his trick, take it one crisis at a time.

Bath time

Aside from a small gap of a few years between Clarisse and Delilah, I've been giving baths almost nightly for over fifteen years.

That's a lot of baths.

When the older kids' mom decided to breastfeed, I decided I would be the bath giver. Even though I was quite young (I was twenty five when Caleb was born), I knew physical contact and one on one time was essential to bonding.

So I paid close attention when the nurses showed me how you bathe him and I just took ownership of it.

Fifteen years later and I'm still at it.

When Delilah came along, Kiza would also be breastfeeding, so when it came to bath time, I told her: "I've got this".

I have only a few years left I guess. Sometimes it's been a burden, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I imagine I'll miss it when the time comes for Dexter to take responsibility for his own bathing.

It's funny, baths have so far been synonymous with parenthood for me. I've been a bath giver as long as I've been a parent, but that won't always be the case. As I approach fifty in a few years and that scary milestone of being a parent longer than not, the counter on bath giver will have stopped.

Then I guess I'll be just a parent.

Me and my boys

It doesn't happen often, but for an hour or so this evening it was just me and my two sons.

Fourteen years separate them. Caleb is practically a man, and Dex is just starting out. The contrast is more than a little staggering.

I have vivid memories of Caleb as a baby, and yet I still find it hard to imagine Dexter as a teenager.

I wonder what kind of relationship they'll have. When Dex is Caleb's age, Caleb will be a thirty year old man, and likely a father himself.

It's enough to blow one's mind, if you think about it long enough.

Deep thoughts for a Thursday evening.

School registration, take two.

Two weeks ago we registered Delilah to the same school her older siblings went to.  I know the school, I know the team, I know many of the kids and their parents.

However, we'd taken an interest in another school in the area, a personalized education school, based on the Montessori method, currently headed by the former principal of the above mentioned school the older kids attended, Pauline.

Pauline and I go back a long way, and we get along very well.  The school has limited enrolment, so last year we decided to put Delilah and Dexter on the list and evaluate later if we felt it was a good fit.

Dexter doesn't started school until 2015, he's like 4th on the list.  Delilah, however starts next September, her year was full, and she was over 20th on the waiting list. Since siblings of current students get dibs on spots, we figured, after Dexter started, we could switch Delilah.

Well imagine our shock when one evening last week I got a phone call from Pauline. There was a spot available for Delilah.  Suddenly it wasn't theoretical anymore, it was real and we needed to make some decisions.

So last Monday, Kiza and I visited Pauline at the school and she gave us the tour and the low down on the philosophy and methodology.  We spoke with many of the students (all extremely articulate, made so by the strong emphasis on oral presentations at the school), and were very impressed by the entire package.

Also, since this whole school thing is new ground for Kiza, I thought it only fair that I be starting fresh too. 

So despite having gone through the process once before, today, we registered Delilah for junior kindergarten.

I have a really good feeling about it.

I really like volleyball

Friday last I reluctantly volunteered to attend my daughter's grade 6 volleyball tournament at a neighbourhood school. 

I should have known.  I loved every minute of it.  

It brought me back to my days as a volleyball player in high school. The one sport I was ever any good at. 

I brought the best from my coach to the court side.  Encouraging, forget that bad play, focus on the next one, be ready, get into position. Praise the opponents for well executed plays.

My daughter was embarrassed at first because I was so vocal, especially to the "strangers" on the other team, but when my enthusiasm became contagious and was praised by her peers, she came around, and started being more vocal herself.

Over lunch I told them that the best game they had play during the morning session was the one they had lost.  This piece of news shocked them.

I explained that sometimes it's better to lose to a stronger team than beat a weaker one, as long as you give them a run for their money, and play your best, which was what they had done.  I told them they should thank the other team for pushing them to play their best and congratulate them for a hard won victory.

I think they got the message. Or at least the gist of it.

They tied for first among the 4 schools in attendance.  They were pretty pumped about that.

Facebook was abuzz with celebration and a couple of posts mentioned me. 

"I hope he comes back"

"It's because of him we won"

"He really help by saying - it's okay" [when they missed], to which one of the boys replied "You're lucky, madame just yelled at us". ;)  

So now I have to go back. 

I can't fathom how I was ever reluctant to go in the first place.